


Picking At It

by Lempo Soi (Lemposoi)



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Angst, Community: kink_bingo, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gags, Kinks, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Woman on Top, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 03:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemposoi/pseuds/Lempo%20Soi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lister and Kochanski have some ill-advised sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking At It

**Author's Note:**

> This would be set some time after "Ouroboros" and before "Back in the Red Part 1".

"Are you sure?" Kris asked, running the red cotton scarf through her fingers. The cabin - hers - was half-lit, the lights turned low for the artificial night. Lister's face was partially lost to darkness as her shadow fell across him, but she could still see the longing in his eyes. It was evident even in the way he stood, hands raised just an inch as if to reach for her.

Oh yes, she was a total bitch.

But he nodded, and said yes. He even said please.

"Turn around."

Lister turned, and Kris strode one step forward, pressing her body against his back. God, he was so warm. His hair smelled like shampoo and ginger. (He was trying so hard.)

She raised the scarf and slipped it between his teeth, pulling it tight and tying it firmly at the back of his neck, under his dreadlocks. Lister made no sound, but she could feel him shiver. "There," she whispered, and ran her hands down his sides, feeling the familiar contours of his body through the worn-thin T-shirt, and she closed her eyes, remembering the faint metallic smell of her Dave.

She frowned. No. Focus.

She tugged at his shirt, and he raised his arms obediently to let her pull it off. She walked him to the bed and he fell on his back on it. She followed, straddling him, and ran her hands down his chest, rememberingr. Her Dave had been a little trimmer. It didn't matter. She liked him like this, both soft and solid.

She raised herself on her knees and lay her hand between his legs. She could feel him respond, hot and twitching.

God, his eyes. Pleading with her.

"You want me." She smiled down at him. "In so many ways." He nodded.

She did not feel like being kind. What he really wanted, she'd already given away.

She could see his skin glimmer with perspiration in the cold light of the comm screen.

"I should be sorry," she said, and began to take off her jacket, then her top, watching his eyes wander hungrily down her body. "I miss him so much, Lister." She undid his trousers and pulled them down along with his underpants, exposing him from neck to thigh. He raised his hips to comply.

"You've done your best for me. You don't deserve to be used like this. And I _am_ using you, you know."

She wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking it, so familiar, and oh, he looked so delicious, like the Dave she'd fucked three million years ago and like the Dave she'd loved like nothing else, right here and available, stripped and gagged and perfectly compliant. The sight of him made her want him inside her, and she hardly knew which did it for her more, his idiosyncratic beauty, her miserable loneliness, or the fact that she was making him suffer for not being her Dave. Did he even realise she'd taken away his voice, and with it, his choice? Didn't he see what she was doing to him?

"You want it anyway, don't you?" she whispered.

The gag cut into his face, twisting it, stopping his tongue. He neither nodded nor shook his head, but put his hands gingerly, reverently on her hips, petting her skin with his thumbs.

That was answer enough. She slipped a condom out of her pocket and tore the package, then slid it over him, rolling it gently down his length. For the first time, he closed his eyes and turned his head away from her. She loved the sight of his exposed neck under the red splash of the scarf.

She undid her own trousers and pulled them down to her thighs. Her pussy was pulsing in anticipation, and she raised herself over him, caught his cock and pushed herself down on it. They slid together slick and tight, and he threw his head back and groaned, his fingers digging into her hips. She leaned her hands on his shoulders and started to move.

Dave. Dave. She gritted her teeth as she pumped her hips, taking him in deep and steady, just like she used to. Oh God, she loved him so much, she missed him so much, fuck he was gorgeous. Oh Dave, oh Dave. Damn this guy for not being him. Fuck him. Fuck him. Don't care if he's hurt. It's all his fault anyway.

She tumbled to an orgasm between regret and anger and love, and her hips stilled, Lister still pushing up into her, beginning to irritate her now until he came too, a convulsion of pleasure that made him beautiful again. His abandon triggered a twinge of guilt. There'd be more of it later, she knew.

It wasn't the sex. This wasn't even about sex.

She ran her fingers across his face, across a upper lip stretched tight and dry against cotton. On his cheeks, she found moisture. Good.

She couldn't bear to hear him speak just yet, and she wasn't ready to apologize either. Maybe they'd both wanted this feeling of hot hard misery to distract from the impossible things they longed for. Like picking at a sore.

She got off him and pulled her trousers back up, picked up her shirt and jacket and ran out like a coward. She would talk to him later. Or maybe walk out of an airlock without a suit on. One or the other. Surely she couldn't just go on and pretend--

She found a window and stared out into space, finding no fresh clarity in its cold vast maw.  



End file.
